


Get the Lead Out

by clericbeastie



Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Allies With Benefits, Canon Disabled Character, Cunnilingus, M/M, PWP, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clericbeastie/pseuds/clericbeastie
Summary: Sex is just another sort of exposure. They're taking off their masks again.(Knightcrow PWP set just before Arkham Knight. Older work.)
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Jason Todd
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Get the Lead Out

**Author's Note:**

> this started as me wanting to explore how scarecrow's face even works and turned into this somewhere along the way. i think this is like 2 years old now lmao just take my rarepair garbage

“Let me see your face.”

“Only if you let me see yours.” 

Crane quirks an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline to what’s clearly some sort of cruel joke. 

“This IS my face.” 

Even as he speaks, Jason is retracting the faceplate of his armor. Save for the brand beneath his eye, he’s infuriatingly normal. It doesn’t appear to bother him - or, at least, he’s trying to act like it doesn’t. 

He’d be pretty if Crane wasn’t so focused on plucking out his eyeballs. 

“I’m not stupid, Crow. I know you’re not made of burlap. Now let me see.” 

Crane doesn’t argue the point further. To show trepidation would be to admit shame, which would equate to some measure of fear. He maintains eye contact as he pushes back his hood and sets his fingers to work at the tangle of fabric hidden beneath. The first strip comes off easily enough, passing over his left eye and down to a reasonably intact patch of his right cheek. The skin over his nasal bone is healed up enough that he can expose it freely, though the lateral cartilage is all but gone so what he reveals can scarcely be called a nose. 

The next bit is more trying. The burlap is fused to the prosthetic that keeps his maxilla complete and staves off his lisp, so peeling apart the mask involves removing his three false teeth and revealing the glaring void where half his upper lip used to be. 

To his credit, Jason has held his gaze throughout the endeavor, which has already taken him a few agonizing minutes. 

“Not all of it comes off.” 

Comes becomes _conesh_ when he fails to compensate for the missing half of his lip. He grits his teeth, anticipating some kind of mockery, an excuse to leave. It doesn’t come. Instead, Jason nods. He has the nerve to cross his arms as if impatient. 

Crane keeps his crooked jaw clenched as he unties the last strip, which covers his chin and holds his respirator. It overlaps with the patch on his cheek, and removing it reveals the ragged line of grafting mesh hidden underneath. The puzzle of his new face is stitched together with various degrees of success, healed in patchwork. 

He is a work of art, and he’s very nearly finished. 

“Well?” he barks, more to break the silence than anything else. 

Jason’s only response is to walk closer, like a tourist examining some exotic caged beast. He isn’t transfixed, per se, but he maintains eye contact with chilling tenacity. He raises a hand, slowly, a man asking permission from a stray dog. 

Crane’s eye twitches. 

Jason removes a gauntlet, lets it drop to the floor. His bare fingertips skim the surface of one of Crane’s scars, following the line from his cheekbone to his ear. There isn’t much sensation on that side of his face nowadays, but Crane still resists the urge to flinch away from it. His spine is stiff, but he refuses to show weakness. They’re both predators in their own right, and he will not reveal his throat to something he knows has fangs. 

There are still gouges dotting the perimeter of many of his scars, remnants of the Croc’s fangs. Jason follows them downwards and presses the tip of his index finger into each one along the way. It’s almost playful, like a child with a picture book. 

Crane hisses in a sharp breath through his teeth when Jason pets the edge of the skin graft, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. The flesh there is angry and red, and he reminds himself to up his antibiotic dosage later. 

Jason runs his thumb over the raw edge of Crane’s upper lip. 

“I’m not afraid of you, you know.” 

Crane’s brow furrows, and the scars there pull at him enough to keep the expression from its full potential. 

“That will change.” 

It comes out _shange_ , and he hates it. He hates Jason for holding his gaze, feels a snarl growing in the back of his throat when the boy smirks at him. 

Jason kisses him and it’s a messy affair. Crane’s mouth is dry and lopsided and Jason is soft and unhurried and infuriating. He tilts his head just right to align them and Crane fists a hand in his hair to hold him in place. Crane wants to make him scream. Instead he pulls Jason along with him until the backs of his knees meet the table just behind him, causing a stack of his notes to collapse onto the floor. He upsets the rest of the pile with a blind sweep of his arm, and he can feel Jason’s amusement in the silent slide of his tongue. It's sudden and his mind goes fuzzy at the edges from the escalation, but he's not about to pull away. If Jason wants to push his boundaries, he's prepared to push right back. 

He tries to lift his other arm to snake around Jason’s neck but overextends it, breaking the kiss with an exclamation of pain. Jason’s response is to lift him by the hips and set him atop the table before he can grow to detest his own physical inefficacy even more. He brings them together again once more without a word. 

Crane supposes they’re sort of past that at this point. 

Apparently they’re also past foreplay, because Jason ignores his torso to shove a hand down the front of his trousers. 

_Impatient as always,_ Crane muses, and considers it a small victory when Jason pulls back to frown in confusion. 

“Not what you were expecting?” 

_Ecshfecting._

Crane spreads his legs as much as the brace will allow, and it’s his turn to smirk as Jason is temporarily taken aback. He unbuttons the front of his pants as he speaks, determined to challenge just how far the other man is willing to go. 

“Something wrong?” 

Much to his chagrin, Jason appears to shake off his discovery after only a moment of blinking like an idiot. His eyes narrow in what must be either amusement or disgust, and Crane isn’t certain which one he wants it to be. 

“No. Nothing at all.” 

His hand returns to Crane’s stomach and traces downwards, undeterred. He’s staring again, an unspoken challenge, and Crane just barely manages to meet his gaze as Jason presses two fingers into his cunt. 

He’s wet but not wet enough, and it takes a few slow pumps before he’s comfortable with the intrusion. Crane’s hands tense into fists and press into the table behind him in an effort to better support his weight. He uses the leverage to hitch his good leg up a bit more, and the new angle is just wide enough to ease most of his discomfort. Jason curls the fingers inside him and Crane’s mouth falls open in a breathy moan. It’s been too long, and he’s tempted to act utterly wanton just to see what kind of reaction he gets, but Jason’s scrutiny makes him almost desperate to preserve what’s left of his dignity at this point. 

Jason licks up the line of his jaw as he adds a third finger. It’s too soon for it to be entirely pleasant, but Crane’s quickly realizing that’s not what he wants. 

“Don't stop.” 

His voice comes out gruff, demanding. He’s still in charge here, no matter how cocky his accomplice might get. 

Or so he thinks. Jason uses his free hand to shove at Crane’s chest until his back meets the table. 

“Wh-” 

Jason doesn’t give him time to speak. He yanks Crane’s good leg out of his pants and underwear and shoves the rest of the fabric aside hard enough to make his brace skid loudly against the wood. The pain there is sharp enough to make tears spring to his eyes, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of Jason’s tongue on his clit. 

He gasps out his approval, hand returning to Jason’s hair now that he no longer needs it to hold himself up. Crane uses his grip to press the boy’s face more firmly against him, and earns himself a pleased hum in return. The ever-curious hand returns to its work without skipping a beat, and this time his body easily accepts it. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” he exclaims, and the word comes out perfectly. Jason’s finger-fucking him in earnest now, even as his tongue swirls around his swollen little cock. 

Crane yanks on his hair hard enough to make Jason gasp. His slick on Jason’s fingers fills the room with obscene, wet sounds. He’s close already and cursing his own libido, but his partner doesn’t seem to mind. 

Crane rolls his hips upwards as much as he can and Jason sucks on his clit, hard. He grunts out some wordless exclamation as he cums. He’s got a vice grip on Jason’s hair as he does, but he doesn’t appear interested in pulling away regardless. 

It’s only after a few slow, languid swipes of his tongue that Jason extricates himself from between Crane’s legs. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as if nothing’s happened, and when their eyes meet again he looks like he’s won something. 

Crane’s thighs are trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm, his breathing still labored. He glares back at Jason as best he can through it all. He refuses to be sized up like a piece of meat. There isn’t much left in him to be won over, of course, but there’s a stubbornness in him that won’t let Jason even think he owns any part of him. 

“Come here.” 

His voice comes out gravelly with arousal. 

He can taste himself on Jason's tongue when he kisses him again, and it sends a shiver down his spine. It feels utterly filthy, and there's something strangely thrilling about that. Jason bites his lip when Crane sets to work undoing his belt, but makes no move to stop him. They both know there's no going back now. 

Sex is just another sort of exposure. They're taking off their masks again. 

Crane unzips Jason's jeans but doesn't bother to push them off any further, and it's Jason's turn to gasp when Crane takes him underhand and starts to stroke. He's already hard, a small victory. 

They don't waste any time on banter. Whatever clever turns of phrase they might have had for each other had little meaning in light of their... current situation. Their eyes meet, briefly. They're both still pushing, testing the boundaries of their unusual allegiance. Stripping down each other's sense of shame is something like a pact in Crane's eyes, a curtain neither of them can replace once it's been pushed aside. 

Some distant part of him almost wants Jason to back out of it, but he knows he won't. He's counting on it. 

He's still too tight, but he's too transfixed by the painful stretch of Jason pressing into him to do anything about it. They both know he wouldn't protest no matter how much it might hurt, a dangerous game when it comes to men like him. 

"Good?" 

Crane scowls and hooks his good leg around Jason's waist, forcing the last couple inches of his cock inside before either of them is ready for it. A jolt rushes up his spine, and he finds himself clinging to Jason's shoulders and panting before he can help it. 

"Shut up." 

The words come out stuttered, breathy. He wants to repeat them, correct himself into a more assertive tone, but before he can clear the shakiness from his throat Jason rocks his hips into him, and _oh_. Crane's back arches, and all coherent speech leaves his mind. The angle's just right, it's too much, and he immediately can't get enough of it. 

Jason's watching him with hooded eyes as he moves, and the attention feels more invasive than the idea that he's getting fucked open in his office. Crane claws down his back, and earns himself a gasp and a thrust hard enough to jostle the desk beneath him. So, he likes it rough. He can work with that. 

Crane pets almost tenderly up the back of Jason's neck before yanking his hair hard enough to make him cry out. Their eyes meet, and in that moment he knows he owns him. 

"Harder," he growls, and Jason _melts_. 

He kisses him again, pressing eagerly into it. Jason's hands are holding his hips tight enough to bruise, and he's almost light-headed at the idea of being marked somewhere so intimate. Jason fucks into him hard and shallow, and _shit_ Crane isn't going to last like this. He pulls away from the kiss only when he can't stifle his cries any longer. 

"Ah- ah, Jason, _fuck_ -" 

Jason pumps into him once, twice, and Crane chokes on his second orgasm of the night. He's shuddering, wracked with waves of overstimulation as he's fucked through it. He feels his cunt tighten, and Jason curses into his shoulder. He's close, and Crane holds tight to him to keep him from moving away. 

"Don't- don't you dare pull out." 

Jason's beyond the point where he can question him. The slick sounds of their joining grow louder, accentuated by how wet he's grown. It's almost a wonder that Jason manages to stay inside through it. Crane pulls him in for another kiss as his hips begin to stutter. All it takes is him biting down on Jason's lip, and he's finished. 

Crane cries out almost as loud as Jason at the sudden rush of heat in his cunt. He's so full, and Jason's shuddering moan feels like some sort of accomplishment. He's baring his throat, and trusting Crane not to tear it open. He continues to rock his hips into him as he rides it out, pushing everything he has deep inside. 

When he finally pulls out, it sends a jolt up Crane's spine. There's a moment where he feels empty in more ways than one, but then Jason's pulling away to tuck himself back into his jeans, and he forces it to pass. 

Crane props himself up on one elbow and shuts his legs as much as he can. It's cold, but he refuses to let his accomplice watch him struggle through re-dressing himself. He can feel the cum starting to slide down the inside of his thigh already, despite his efforts to hold it in. Jason's watching him, curiosity evident on his face. This isn't the sort of exchange that allies go through without it meaning something. 

Now that they're not trying to one-up each other, Crane isn't sure what else it's supposed to mean. He refuses to dwell on it. Not now, when the last dredges of his humanity are yearning for some sort of afterglow. 

“Get out.” 

Jason doesn’t question the command. He turns on his heel, and Crane’s overcome with the urge to throw something at him on his way out. 

He offers a cursory wave over his shoulder before the door shuts behind him. Crane trembles. He wants to call him back, but he doesn't. 

He knows he’s going to have to kill him.


End file.
